


NSFW

by sapphirescribe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, steve is a dirty dirty boy, tony doesn't listen to directions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirescribe/pseuds/sapphirescribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve sends Tony an email with explicit instructions to not open it at work. Tony doesn't listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	NSFW

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a delightful little video that I saw on tumblr and promptly lost. If anyone finds it, please don't hesitate to send it my way. Happy new year!
> 
> EDIT: Holy SHIT, 11 months later and I wasn't even looking for it, but [this is the gifset that inspired this fic](http://fuzzydudes.tumblr.com/post/109152227822/). NSFW, of course.

_To: Tony Stark_  
_From: Steve Rogers_  
_Re: NSFW_

_Seriously, Tony. Don't open this in public._

_Miss you. Come home soon._  
_xo_  
_Steve_

Tony should know better. He really should. But he's bored as all fuck listening to the board go over projections for the following year, strategizing for increasing their already absurd profits, and trying to get him to commit to specific projects in the coming year. They go through this every year, it's never anything new, and Tony is _bored_. So of course he clicks on the video file in Steve's email.

It's a little blurry at first, but the image is unmistakably a naked, very beautifully sculpted torso. 

Somewhere in the room, someone's phone begins vibrating quietly.

After a second or two, the video clears, and becomes Steve's torso.

Tony squints, pulling the phone closer to his face, trying to figure out what Steve is showing him. He wishes that phone would stop vibrating (and, frankly, that everyone would shut up) so he could focus on the video. Just watching Steve's stomach move as he breathes is more enthralling than any board meeting could hope to be.

The buzzing is really starting to get to him—no one expects him to pay attention, but they damn well should be—when Tony realizes he's been missing a vital part of the action. Steve's lying on a couch wearing dark blue boxer briefs and nothing else. His dick is _hard_ , pressing up against the waistband, and fuck, _fuck_ Tony suddenly realizes it isn't some board member's phone that's been vibrating, it's fucking _Steve_.

Fucking _fuck_.

Tony tries to reach for the mute switch on the phone at the same time he tries to pause the video and the phone goes flying out of his normally nimble hands to clatter on the conference room table, screen up, a foot out of his reach.

"If you'll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," he nearly shouts as he stands and grabs at the phone. He shoves it in his pocket, hand covering the speaker, and bolts from the boardroom. 

He's never been so thankful for a private elevator as he is at this moment. His hands are shaking as he pulls his phone out again. Steve's still on the sofa in Tony's workshop, breathing heavily, and why the shit doesn't he carry headphones? 

Somehow he makes it to his office, waving off his assistant, and locking the door behind him. He swaps the phone for the computer and cranks the volume all the way up. Steve's soft breaths fill his office, along with that low buzzing he heard before. Steve's hands are curled into fists on his thighs, clenching and releasing in the same erratic beats as his stomach. 

Tony realizes his own ragged breathing is drowning Steve out and covers his mouth with his hand. Steve's letting out these little whimpers and moans, hands pulling the fabric of his briefs taut. Why he's not touching himself Tony can only guess, but jesus fuck it's hot as shit to watch Steve getting himself off like this, depriving himself.

He doesn't quite know where to focus. There's something mesmerizing about Steve's stomach, the muscles contracting as he quivers and rolls his hips trying to get more friction. But Tony is also fascinated by his hands. He's trying so hard not to touch himself that he's nearly ripping the fabric of his briefs. With occasional jerks and movements, he's pulling the briefs down and revealing tantalizing glimpses of the v of his hips and the light pubic hair leading down to his throbbing dick.

And his _dick_. Je _sus_. His briefs are pulled so tight Tony swears he can see the veins and ridges of Steve's dick. His mouth waters.

The buzzing kicks up a notch and Steve gasps. His hips come fully off the couch and pump up into the air and the the small patch of wetness on Steve's briefs grows rapidly, Tony's name falling from his lips.

His stomach heaves with deep, cleansing breaths, and his hips stutter a handful more times before he relaxes back into the couch.

After a few moments where Tony just sits at his desk, gobsmacked and hard, Steve tucks a sweaty hand into his briefs, fingers covered in come when he pulls them out. The camera pans up in sync with his hand. He sucks two fingers into his mouth, licking his come off of them, before he trails the wet fingers back down to circle a nipple.

"Come home, Tony," he says, looking directly into the camera before the screen goes blank.


End file.
